Dog Gone (15 page)

‘It seems to me you've brought a lot of this on yourself, Ish,' continued Gran, sounding bossy.

I wanted her to listen to me – to help me – to fix things up for me. If Gran wasn't going to, who would? ‘But it's Brody's fault, not mine. He's the one to blame. He's even saying I pushed him down the well!' I was indignant now. Gran definitely had the wrong end of the stick.

‘Brody can only push you around if you let him.' Gran closed her book and stood up to stretch her legs.

‘Well, if you go and explain everything to Miss Beech, she'll punish Brody instead of me, then when everybody sees I didn't do anything wrong, they'll like me,' I said. ‘Then Brody won't be able to bully me because the other kids will stand up for me.'

‘Ish, you need to stand up for yourself. You need to sort things out for yourself.'

I couldn't believe Gran was saying all this. Why wasn't she going to help me? And after Dad had taken off again, too! ‘I don't feel like fishing anymore,' I said. ‘You can keep fishing if you want. I'm going back.'

I didn't give Gran a chance to answer. I jumped off my log and ran up the bank towards the back of the cemetery. She could carry all the fishing gear home by herself. It would serve her right for being so mean.

As I ran through the bushes, I'd already decided on a plan. I'll show her! I'll sort things out myself, all right!

I was going to find Lucky. By myself!

As I turned
the corner into the main road, the wind whipped up suddenly, and lifted an old chip packet into the air. I shivered and pulled my jacket tighter to block out the cold.

I had a bad feeling about this, but it was something I needed to do. I'd never been inside Brody's house before, but I'd driven past a few times when I'd been out with Gran. The walk hadn't taken as long as I'd expected. I hoped it wasn't too early in the morning to be paying someone a visit.

I stood at the front gate. Now that I was here, I didn't know if I had the nerve to go in. I talked myself through it – open the gate, walk up to the front door, knock. I tried to imagine myself reciting the speech I'd prepared for Brody, but remembered standing in front of another door, several months ago, back in Melbourne.

I'd been rehearsing a speech then, too. I remembered lifting the huge brass knocker and hearing the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. I remembered being nervous, then the door opening and the look of surprise on Dad's face.

I took a deep breath and opened Brody's gate. I hoped he would answer the door, not his dad. I wasn't sure I wanted to meet his dad. Who knows what lies Brody had told him about me? I walked up the overgrown path to the front step. What if Brody had gone to school today and already left? I stood on the step and took some more deep breaths.

Dad's voice from all those months ago rang in my ears –
What are you doing here?
It wasn't so much the words he said, but
how
he said them. The tone in his voice, as if every word had an icicle hanging off it. Then even colder, when I didn't reply –
I said, what are you doing here? Does your mother know where you are?

Brody's front door was black, and someone had started to strip the paint back to bare wood but hadn't finished. The doorbell cover was missing, and you could see the place where the battery was meant to be. I stepped up to the door and ran through my speech again. I had to have it right, or I'd blow it. The words flashed through my mind.

Only, Dad's voice kept interrupting –
What's the matter with you? Cat got your tongue?
I'd broken his shaver, just before he moved out. I lied to him when he asked me about it. I've never seen him so mad. He was running late and ended up going to work without a shave. That was the day he lost his job.

I remembered opening my mouth to say my speech and all the words tumbling out in a jumble, all in the wrong order – me asking him to come back home and live with me and Molly and Mum again – telling him I was sorry – that if he'd just come back, I'd try twice as hard to be good –

I lifted my hand to rap on Brody's door, when it opened.

‘What are you doing here?' The words hit me like bullets. ‘You don't give up, do you?' Brody was standing there, holding the door open, balancing on his crutches.

‘You said you'd help me find Lucky.' I wanted to get straight to the point.

‘And why would you think I meant all that crap in the well?' asked Brody, his mouth curled into a sneer.

‘Because you did.' Brody knew what it was like to lose a dog. I stood as tall as I could and looked him in the eye. ‘I'm going to make a heap more posters to put up around the town. Wanna help?'

‘Shouldn't you be at school?'

‘Nah, I thought we could go to the pound and the police.'

Brody fiddled with one of his crutches. ‘Why would you want my help? You really are nuts, aren't you? How do you expect me to help on these?'

‘You could help me put the posters in plastic pockets in case it rains. Mr Ironclad would drive us round.'

‘Get your dad to help,' said Brody, looking out onto the street.

‘My dad's not here,' I said. ‘He went back to Sydney.'

Brody went quiet, as if he was thinking. Then he nudged the door with his crutch. ‘Why would I want to waste my time on your stupid mutt?' Brody looked back into the room behind him, and for a moment I thought he was going to close the door.

‘You know the answer to that, Brody.' I wished I could break through the barrier he'd put up.

‘Go back to the city, where you belong.'

‘Wait, Brody,' I said, putting my hand against the door. ‘At least think about it.'

A voice sounded from another room in the house, and Brody turned to listen. ‘I've gotta go,' he said, and slammed the door.

Why wasn't I better with words?

I'd go to see Mr Ironclad. If he wasn't out bowling, he'd help me with the posters and drive me to the pound and the police station. I certainly wasn't going to ask Gran. Dad's word's echoed in my ears –
What are you doing here?
If I hadn't broken his shaver, he might still have his old job and wouldn't live in Sydney. The poem wrote itself in my head as I kicked a rock along the gutter all the way down Brody's street, until it eventually fell into a drain.

Day 14 - In trouble

It's a silly idea

to give my old teddy

a haircut with

Dad's electric shave

but I can't stop myself

the whirr

of blades spinning fast

the smoky smell of

blades jammed with fur

Lucky and me

keeping it all a secret

The wind seemed icier as I turned the corner. It stung my face and made my eyes water.

By the end of
the day, I'd done everything I could think of to find Lucky, short of door-knocking every house in town. Mr Ironclad had helped me with another round of posters, we'd checked the pound and the police and visited the vet. I was starting to lose hope. We'd even walked through the cemetery and down along the river, but there was no sign of him. And there was no sign of the ghost, not that I'd mentioned anything to Mr Ironclad. I'd felt sure if Grandpa was the ghost, he'd have made contact with me again by now. He must know how worried I was about Lucky.

Why wasn't he helping?

After dinner Gran had gone out again, to babysit. She wouldn't be home till late. Molly was on her mobile phone in her room. There was nothing on television, so I went to bed. I wanted to forget my dog was missing, so I pulled the doona over my head, and waited to escape into sleep and dreams.

Except I couldn't sleep.

There was an annoying noise outside. At first I thought it was the wind in the peppercorn tree, a branch bumping up against my window. I decided to cut it off with Grandpa's pruning saw in the morning. But then I realised it was more like a knocking sound. There was a rhythm to it. Someone was knocking on my window!

I sat up in bed and looked out. It was such a dark night, I couldn't see a thing. Who was it? The knocking suddenly got louder and more urgent.

The ghost. It was Grandpa. He was coming to help me find Lucky. Finally!

I jumped out of bed and pressed my face to the cold glass. Then I jumped back and gasped in fright. Another face was peering in from the outside. And it wasn't the ghost.

I slid down under the window, with my back against the wall, so whoever it was couldn't see me.

The knocking started up again. It was no use calling out to Molly. She had her door closed at the other end of the house. What should I do?

‘Ish!'

Whoever it was knew my name!

‘Ish! Come on, open your stupid window. It's freezing out here!'

‘Brody!' I jumped up and heaved open the window. ‘What are you doing?'

‘What does it look like?' Brody was standing on one leg on Gran's old garden chair. He tossed his crutches inside and stuck his head through the window. ‘Give me a hand.'

I don't know how he managed, but somehow he swung his good leg over the ledge then followed with his plastered leg. He sat on my bed, puffing. ‘You'd better get dressed. Fast.'

‘Why?'

‘Uncle Vinny's got your dog.'

‘What?'

‘He was tied up on the back of his ute. A kelpie- something. Dead spit of how you described Lucky – white tip on his tail, one brown ear one white.'

‘When was that? Is he okay? Is Lucky okay?'

‘'Bout two hours ago. Uncle Vinny was over at our place. Him and Dad had this massive argument. Vinny's off his head. That's what they were fighting about. He hasn't been taking his medication again. Dad went nuts at him.'

‘Where did he find Lucky? Did you tell him that he was my dog?'

‘No way. I stayed right out of it. They were going ballistic at each other.'

‘So where's Lucky now?'

‘Well, that's the thing. I'm not sure. Vinny took off in his ute and I don't know where he went. Home to his farm, most likely.'

‘Where's that?'

‘On the main road, about twenty k's out. You've gotta get up there. Lucky's not safe.'

‘Did you tell your dad about Lucky? Can he take us there? We've got to get Lucky before it's too late.

‘Dad took off to the pub. No way he'd be able to drive tonight. It wouldn't be safe for your Gran. Vinny's likely to do anything.'

‘Gran's not home, anyway. What about Mr Ironclad? He could take us.'

Brody shook his head. ‘Mr Ironclad's not home. I already checked.'

‘What'll we do, then?' I felt so worried, I felt sick. ‘Ring the police! They'll help. They know about Lucky.'

‘Not a good idea. If Vinny thinks the police are after him, he's likely to blast them with his shotgun. You could go on the bus.'

‘What?'

‘The night bus. It goes through here to Sydney. Vinny's place is just short of the first stop after Selview,' Brody said, nodding towards the window. ‘You'll see “V. Wingott” out the front.'

I looked up ‘V. Wingott' in Gran's phone book, and wrote down the number. I'd worked out that it was about an hour away. I'd been on the Sydney bus once before, with Mum and Gran, and we'd hopped off at the same stop to order a lounge suite in one of the big furniture stores there.

I left Gran a note saying I'd gone to bed early. I told her I was ‘
emotionally wrung out'
. I'd heard Mum use that expression once.

I pushed a chair up against my door handle. The last thing was to double-check my backpack without Molly barging in unexpectedly. Brody had gone home. It was no use him coming with his broken leg. He had given me his mobile phone. Brody would use his dad's, which he'd found lying on the kitchen table. We had agreed I would text him if things went wrong.